#rumel

Scribbles & Drabbles SFW Prompt 62 by Melpomaen

Melpomaen and Rúmil just want some coffee before being stuck in car for ten hours. If only they had the correct currency. Based on artwork by the wonderful Melpomaen and on some scenarios experienced during my several years as a barista

Tags: Modern Rúmel!

"I can't make change for a one hundred dollar bill, if that's what you're going to ask." The barista states tiredly, setting Melpomaen's half-caf, iced vanilla oat milk latte with whip and sprinkles onto the counter next to Rúmil's large black coffee. "It's 6am and we don't have the change."

Melpomaen waves his hand and mutters, "No, no. Not a hundred," as he distractedly sorts through the various currencies in his side bag; none of which are standard bank notes from the last millennia.

"What's the problem?" Rúmil asks as he steps up behind the shorter elf.

"I'm sorry?" The barista blinks at Rúmil. "I don't speak…Swedish?" They ask with uncertainty.

"Finnish." Melpomaen states confidently. He turns back to his husband and replies in swift Sindarin. "We forgot to go to the bank before the trip. Again. If we had decided to open those accounts in the 60s -"

Rúmil sighs and rubs his temples. "No. We don't need whatever Nazgûl-cursed magic that lives within those tiny debt cards. Valar knows Legolas has gotten himself into enough trouble as it is."

Melpomaen shifts, watching the line form behind them despite - or perhaps because of - the early hour. He turns back to the barista, who is anxiously tapping their fingers on the counter.

"We don't have," he pauses, searching for the right words, "the cash with us. Can I leave my ring while we get some?"

The barista gives him a flat stare. "You don't have a card or something?"

Rúmil snorts and Melpomaen glares at him halfheartedly. "No."

The café door slams open and the brisk air rushes inside as Orophin steps in, wincing at the crash. Modern doors were much lighter than their ancient counterparts. The barista rolls their eyes. "Ah, sorry! Are you guys ready? We need to leave."

Rúmil pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, "He's never going to let me live this down."

Melpomaen sighs. "Yes he will."

Orophin looks at the exasperated barista, his brother in law's flush at the tip of his ears, and the line of caffeine-deprived regulars behind them. He grins brightly then laughs. "You did it again, didn't you two?"

"...Maybe he won't."

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